


Rumors and Whispers

by Mifanweth Wing Ding (Cantique)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Mifanweth%20Wing%20Ding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor is an odd one. She keeps to herself and seems to wander off alone whenever she feels like it. So when the men start whispering about everything from lovers to blood magic, Cullen investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumors and Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> BASED ON A PICTURE OF A FRIEND WITH A SNAKE  
> DON'T EVEN ASK ok?

“She’s a weird one, ain’t she?”

Cullen snapped back to attention, his mind having wandered somewhere else as the Inquisitor had passed by. He’d been sparring with Krem, and had also found himself more than impressed with the mercenary, quite frankly. The Iron Bull wasn’t merely bragging about the Tevinter’s abilities -- he was quick, and didn’t waste a second.

But even with Krem’s sharp reflexes on his mind, Cullen had still found himself distracted by her. “I wouldn’t say _weird_ ,” he finally replied, his eyes still settled on her as she wandered out of the gates. Alone. “But she is certainly… unique.”

Krem shrugged, lowering his weapon and rolling his shoulders. “I mean, the Chief told me she was different, but I thought she’d be… ‘Dalish’ different.” Krem shook his head. “He brought her to the tavern once, to meet the Chargers. Nice enough, don’t get me wrong, but very quiet for someone who does what she does.”

“Yes,” Cullen agreed, giving a nod. “I suppose she does have a lot on her mind, however.”

“Might wanna tell the rest of the men that,” Krem suggested before tilting his neck, giving a shrug and heading back to the barracks, leaving Cullen standing there trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

* * *

 

Cullen always felt uneasy in Leliana’s… well, Sera had called it the ‘Snitch Tower’ ever since Leliana had blown the lid on her dessert-stealing operation, but the official title escaped him. He always worried a raven would swoop him or he’d accidentally step into some kind of trap.

“Cullen,” she began with a smile, looking up from some kind of correspondence that was, no doubt, top secret in nature. “I rarely see you up here.” She followed this with a small laugh and for a second he was worried she could read his mind.

“Yes, well,” he began, clearing his throat and looking around once more in fear of ravens, “I had a question that I felt couldn’t wait until the next War Table summons.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow, setting down her correspondence. “Oh?” She asked. “Now I am curious, if not a little concerned. What is it?”

He hadn’t thought he could feel anymore uneasy, but he’d been wrong. “Are there any… _rumors_ about the Inquisitor? Amongst the men, I mean?”

“Rumors?” She gave a singular laugh, “where would you like me to start? There has been a fascinating one making the rounds recently that she has taken The Iron Bull as a lover.”

Cullen blinked, his face suddenly turning flashed beyond control. “The Iron Bull?” He repeated. “R-Really?”

Leliana shook her head, smirking at Cullen’s reaction. “No, although The Iron Bull has done little to deny it -- I think it’s polishing his ego.”

“I see,” Cullen cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “More specifically, rumors about… her, uh,  _uniqueness_.”

Leliana gave a sigh, nodding and crossing her legs. “There are many,” she admitted, “they are harmless, mostly. She is Dalish, she prefers to spend her time alone and it’s rare for most of the men to even see her. That makes her exotic, a mystery.”

“And the rumors?” He asked. “What are they saying?”

“Some are innocent, if not beneficial for her. It’s been said that she’s a spirit like Cole, or that she’s one of the Old Gods, or that she can speak to animals. But then there’s…” Leliana pursed her lips “Some of the mages have theories that she has been using blood magic.”

The two shared a silence, Cullen feeling a wave of fear flow through him when Leliana didn’t follow this with any kind of dismissal. “...Has she?” He asked, his voice quiet.

“I have been investigating it privately,” Leliana relented. “I do not wish to give any legitimacy to the rumors, so it has been slightly difficult to do so without confiding in Solas or Vivienne, but, well… would it matter if she was a blood mage?”

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked, frowning. “Of course it would matter.”

“She is still the Inquisitor, is she not?” Leliana asked. “We cannot afford to risk her running away because she is exposed.”

Cullen’s jaw tensed. “And what? Risk her becoming an abomination?”

Although the air had suddenly become tense, the Spymaster was unrelenting. “You will recall that the Hero of Ferelden was a blood mage,” she spoke calmly. “And need I even mention Hawke?” Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but Leliana raised a finger, gesturing for him to remain silent. “Neither of them became abominations. One could even argue that the Hero of Ferelden would not have even survived slaying the Archdemon if not for blood magic. You of _all_ people must be thankful for that.”

Leliana’s eyes didn’t break from Cullen’s as his expression flinched. She knew what had happened between him and the Hero of Ferelden, and as a result she rarely mentioned it. It had been years, but it was still an exposed nerve for him. “Perhaps,” she finally sighed, a hint of guilt in her eyes, “you should speak to her yourself.”

“I do speak to her. Often.”

“I mean as friends,” Leliana corrected. “Not at the War Table or on the training grounds.” Leliana’s mouth curved into a small smile, a mischievous one that cullen struggled to figure out. “I think you will find she is more open than you may believe.”

* * *

 

It had taken a few days for it to fall into place -- for the circumstances to be right. He was on his way to the armory when caught her heading out past the gates alone again, as she often did. Instead of calling out to her, though, he decided to follow her. Mostly out of curiosity, really -- he wanted to know where she was going all the time outside of the Skyhold walls. There was a modest patch of lush and green forest before you hit the snowy mountain path, something Solas had attributed to all the old magic within Skyhold, and it left her lots of places to hide if she needed to.

He kept his distance, his mind racing to think of a way to explain this if he was caught. Luckily for the commander, though, the Inquisitor seemed somewhat aloof as she wandered deeper into the forest. She knew exactly where she was going, which impressed him. Although she was Dalish -- he supposed they’d have to know how to navigate a forest, wouldn’t they?

Eventually they came to a very small clearing, a very small stream trickling by, which Cullen assumed was actually some of the overflow from Skyhold. She paused, looking around before setting her gaze on a low-hanging tree. “There you are,” she murmured to herself as she stepped over a rock, approaching one of the branches, hands outstretched as if greeting a friend. It was then that Cullen noticed the snake curled around the branch loosely, it’s head poking out curiously at the Inquisitor. Instinctively, his hand took to the hilt of his sword -- but he managed to hesitate long enough to resist and watch the Inquisitor offer her hand to the reptile. Surely enough, after a moment, the snake slithered from the branch and up her arm, eventually coming to drape itself across her shoulders, seemingly comfortable.

She moved from the tree, casually finding herself a rock by the stream to sit on in the sun, almost oblivious to the fact there was a snake across her shoulders like some kind of shawl. “I’m so tired, Garas,” she sighed, gazing into the stream. “I sleep for as long as I can and yet I’m always tired when I wake.” The snake, presumably names Garas, slowly and loosely wrapped itself around her left arm, it’s head lifted to keep eye contact with her. At least that’s what it looked like to Cullen, and for a moment he felt his stomach grow tight -- what if it was true? What if she really _could_ talk to animals? She was a mage, yes, but could they even _do_ that?

“I knew this would be hard, but… maybe I should talk to Cullen. He’s much more experienced.” She paused before shaking her head. “No. He’s too busy to listen to me complain about that. But you’re not, are you?” She smiled and gently rubbed under the snake’s head with the top of her fingers.

None of this were true, of course, and Cullen were outraged she thought such a thing. Of course he had time for her! And even if he didn’t, he’d make it, she should have known that. He thought that had been clear. Perhaps he hadn’t been clear enough, although, he’d wanted to avoid being too clear with her, there was a lingering interest in her that he’d been attempting to stifle for the sake of the Inquisition, but --

**_ SNAP! _ **

Cullen froze. At some stage during his internal rambling he’d lost track of himself and shifted from one leg to another, causing a branch beneath his feet to snap in half. The Inquisitor’s smile had vanished, her posture on alert as she looked around, a glow emitting from her right hand. “Who’s there?” She asked, her legs tensing, ready to leap. “Show yourself.”

Despite the temptation to flee and avoid embarrassment, Cullen had seen the Inquisitor work and knew far too well that she’d set his britches on fire long before she discovered it were him if he even tried. Taking a deep breath, the Commander stepped from the cover of the tree he’d hidden behind, palms raised in surrender and a nervous smile on his face. “Let me begin by saying that there is no amount of apologising that will make this less embarrassing,” he began, stepping forward and towards the stream, noting the look of confusion on the Inquisitor’s face. “Please be merciful.”

“Cullen?” She asked, blinking, the glow from her hand fading. “What are you doing here?”

Cullen glanced away, clearing his throat and lowering his hands. “I… well… I followed you.”

“Do I even want to know why?” The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, visibly relaxing now. Cullen wasn’t on fire yet, which he chose to take as a positive sign.

“I was curious,” he explained, only really half lying about it. “You leave Skyhold alone so often without saying a word.” He paused. “Not that I intended to invade your privacy, however, I--”

“And you didn’t think to ask?” Her head tilted as she asked, and Cullen was unsure if this was a display of harmless curiosity on her part or if she was offended.

“I didn’t wish to bother you,” he replied, knowing almost immediately that this was the wrong thing to say -- her expression only confirmed it.

With her eyes downcast, the Inquisitor slid off her rock and began to make her way back to the tree that the Snake was previously inhabiting. “You and everyone else, apparently.”

Cullen frowned, stepping forward when she began to reach for the branch. “What are you doing?” He asked. “You don’t have to leave.” She paused when he said this, looking to him, frowning and watching him for further explanation. “You’re not needed in Skyhold currently, and…” Cullen took a deep breath. Maker help him for what he was about to ask of her, because although simple and harmless, it made his heart race for some reason. “Perhaps we could talk. Here.”

The Inquisitor eyed him suspiciously, before slowly pulling her arm back from the tree, the Snake settling against her once more. “You have to forgive my suspicions,” she began, slowly moving back to her rock. “Few seem to speak to me outside of official Inquisition business in Skyhold.” She paused as she sat. “Are the men still saying I’ve taken Bull as a lover?”

Cullen coughed, blinking, completely taken aback by this. “I… uh…” he cleared his throat once more, trying desperately to regain himself as he came further forward towards the stream. “They’ve uh… moved on to your apparent ability to talk to animals,” he lied -- if not purely for the sake of her feelings and _his_ dignity.

She shrugged. “I much prefer _that_ to some of the other stories.”

“Can you?” He asked, glancing between her and the snake. “Talk to animals, I mean?” His breath caught a little. Oh no, that could be taken as entirely rude. “N-not to imply that I believe such rumors, of course, just… the snake…”

“Anyone can talk to animals,” she laughed, “being able to understand what they’re saying back, however…” She glanced to him, reading his expression effortlessly. “No, I don’t have some kind of secret Dalish magic that lets me speak with the animals,” she sighed, a smile on her face as she did so. “But I’ve spent enough time with them to understand it when they _are_ trying to tell me something. Just as anyone with a Mabari companion can understand their Mabari. It’s hardly a talent.”

“Yes,” he agreed, finding his own stone on the other side of the stream to sit on, “but having such a bond with a snake is… unusual.”

The Inquisitor merely shrugged at this. “I was not afraid of Garas, and he was not afraid of me.”

“Garas,” he repeated. “What does it mean?”

To his surprise, she raised an eyebrow. “It means ‘come here.’ I said it so many times that it stuck.”

“And you spoke to him in Dalish?”

“It sounds a lot more enticing than the common tongue,” she replied, fast as anything.

Cullen chuckled at this. She wasn’t entirely wrong if you were to draw a comparison. “Yes, well, I suppose it depends on who’s speaking it… if you don’t mind my asking,” he began, shifting a little, “ _have_ you been sleeping well?”

The Inquisitor shook her head. “No,” she admitted, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Well, I sleep, but not for long. I have so many nightmares about Haven. Add all the demons in the Fade to that and…” she paused, taking a deep breath and releasing an exhale. “I’m sorry. You were just asking to be polite.”

“Inquisitor,” Cullen began, frowning, “I’d hope that you don’t really think that. You’re the Inquisitor, and your wellbeing is just as important as any other part of this war. We need you.”

“That’s the problem,” she explained, followed by a short and exhausted groan. “Everyone needs me, and I can’t keep up. The lives and fates of so many people depend on me and I can’t even get one night’s rest without hearing the screams… so I come out here to be away from it. Like a coward.”

He watched her silently for a moment, fascinated. He’d only really seen her be the Inquisitor, constantly unshakable, strong and full of fire. But it wasn’t the Inquisitor sitting on the other side of the tiny stream, a snake wrapped around her shoulders and arms as though it were holding her together, her eyes downcast and soft -- no, sad. She was Milandreth. He’d never seen this side of her before, and he felt almost guilty for it, as though it were an intimacy he had no right to share with her.

“You know,” he finally began after a few more moments spent selfishly gazing at her, “Something happened to me ten years ago, and I’ve been having nightmares ever since. If it’s any consolation, you learn to cope.” He caught her gaze. “If I could learn, so can you. I dare say you’ll master it much quicker than I did.”

She looked away after a moment, smiling and reaching to brush her hair behind her ear. “You’re always so ready for anything,” she said. “Always composed and confident. How do you do it?” She asked. “Because you do it so well that I never would have guessed.”

He shrugged. “Time. Patience. I kept a journal for a while, when it was still fresh. The sisters in the Chantry I was sent to said it would help, and it did… until I became so frustrated that I threw it in the fire.”

“The Chantry?” She asked, a small grin flourishing across her lips. “Maybe one day you can tell me about that.”

He watched her again as she reached up to stroke the scales of the Snake. It struck him how much he enjoyed being with her like this, just talking, no missions or tactics or strategy to formate. In fact, he quite enjoyed her company as it was, perhaps he should have taken some time to talk to her sooner instead of avoiding her as though it would make him stop thinking about her whenever his mind had a spare moment. Or whenever anyone mentioned the Dalish. Or magic. Or anything that his subconscious could manage to link with her, anyway. Once, someone mentioned soup and he found himself entirely distracted with the question of if the Inquisitor had already eaten lunch or not. Yet he’d never approached her, as though doing so would be the most difficult thing in the world. Had she been avoiding him for the same reasons? Surely not. She was far too magnificent and intelligent to do that when all they really had to do was find the time to talk.

The Inquisitor smiled and closed her eyes, letting her head drop backwards, exposing the front of her neck to the sun. He would like to tell her about Ferelden one day, assuming of course she’d trust him enough to tell her about what had shaken her so deeply that it etched itself in her nightmares. But that would be for another time. They had much to talk about until then, he had decided that this would not be the last time they escaped from Skyhold together.

“One day,” he repeated, before relaxing his shoulders and enjoying the sounds of the clearing with her.

 

 


End file.
